Crash, Bang, Wallop
by MrsHolmes-Winchester
Summary: Second in the You've Got A Friend Series, but can be read alone. Imogen and Arthur are closer to revealing their feelings for each other than ever, but disaster threatens to separate the lovers.
1. Nicknames and Cocoa

"Morning boys," Imogen yawned, placing the coffees down in the flight deck. "What's the word game for today?"

Douglas took a long drink from the coffee before replying. "Nicknames the same length or longer than the original name. Got any, Rebecca?"

Imogen giggled. "How about Rebecca," she offered, raising an eyebrow.

"Touche. Any others?"

"Jack for John, Charlie for Charles. How long have you been playing?"

Martin smiled wanly. "What feels like hours. Have any ideas for others we could play?" He implored her, grinning behind his mug.

"Nicknames that bear no resemblance to the actual name. Rebecca for Imogen, Peggy and Daisy for Margaret, Jack for John, Sadie for Sarah and so on." She picked up the empty mugs from the hot drinks run she had made an hour or two ago and flashed a triumphant grin at Martin, he returned it, enjoying this small victory over Douglas.

"You've been thinking those up for ages," Douglas grumbled, draining his coffee and handing her back the mug.

"Have not," she argued good naturedly, accepting the mug. "Anyway, when do you want catering?"

Martin and Douglas shrugged simultaneously.

"Maybe in an hour or so?" Guessed Martin.

"Let me know over the intercom then. I'll head back and keep Arthur occupied."

"Hello again Arthur," she murmured, settling down beside him and adjusting his blanket for him. He stirred and threw her a sleepy grin.

"Hello," he responded, yawning. "Where did you go?"

"Coffee run. I didn't want to wake you. How was your nap?" She straightened out his ruffled hair with deft fingers, smiling fondly.

"It was good. I had a strange dream. It was good strange though, not bad strange."

Imogen chuckled and pulled the excess blanket towards her. Arthur moved to give her more of it and tucked it round her shoulders.

"Do you want to go to sleep now Imogen? I can do the breakfasts for Skip and Douglas if you like!" In an instant, he was awake and chirpy as ever.

Imogen shook her head. "Wake me up when they want it and I'll do it for them, Arthur. I only want a cat nap."

"Then can we play charades?"

Sighing lightly, Imogen nodded. It was quite funny and she loved to see Arthur so happy and carefree.

"Course we can. Now shh, let me sleep for a bit."

She could have sworn she felt a kiss brush her forehead as she drifted off.

Arthur wandered into the flight deck after Imogen fell asleep, wanting to ask Douglas some advice. After all, it wasn't something he was used to.

"Morning Arthur. I see you've woken up then."

"Morning Skip, morning Douglas! Imogen is sleeping now. I gave her my blanket and I wanted to ask Douglas some advice about her."

Douglas turned to look at the steward, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "Go on then Arthur. Though I suspect I already know."

"Know what?" Martin was clueless, but then, he wasn't quite as astute as Douglas was. Douglas missed nothing, keen for information that he might need to use in the future.

"Well, I was wondering, how do you ask people out on dates? Every girl I've ever been out with has asked me so I don't know how to do it and I can't ask mum because she'll only tell me not to scare her off," Arthur garbled, keeping an eye on the flight deck door, lest Imogen wake and wander in. He didn't want his moment to be ruined.

Douglas chuckled. He had been expecting the question for some time now, since before Florida. He knew the two flight attendants had feelings for each other, it was just a case of letting the other know of it.

"Well, Arthur, I would just ask her outright. Say something like, 'We've been spending a lot of time together and I've gotten really close to you and I'd like very much if we could go out together somewhere when we get home. Or somewhere that we fly to.' She'll like that."

"Thanks Douglas!" Arthur beamed, instantly cheery once again, bouncing out of the flight deck.

"How did you know?" Martin asked, incredulous.

"Well, when you've romanced as many women as I have, you tend to pick up on it."

Arthur made his way back to Imogen, settling himself beside her and watching her sleep.

When Imogen woke, there was a hot chocolate beside her, with mini marshmallows and whipped cream. She grinned, knowing Arthur had pulled out all the stops for this. He had probably gone to all the trouble of buying them in, knowing that hoc cocoa was her all-time favourite hot drink. Yawning, she stretched and shrugged off the blanket, standing and deciding to go look for Arthur. The cramps in her legs eased themselves out as she made her way to the galley, where Arthur was trying to heat the catering.

"I thought you were going to wake me?" She asked, smiling a little.

"You looked so peaceful Imogen! Plus Mum wrote down the instructions for me this time, so I thought I'd be able to do it myself."

Imogen nodded. "I'll go check if they want coffee and tea."

Arthur shook his head. "I'll do it. You can finish the catering if you like."

Imogen raised an eyebrow but said nothing, fishing the food from the microwave with the oven gloves Arthur had just passed her before he had disappeared into the flight deck to take hot drinks orders. Imogen wasn't sure what Arthur was up to, but there was definitely something. Sighing lightly, she placed the next meal in the microwave and set the timer, waiting for Arthur.

"Skip wants tea this time but Douglas wants more coffee." He said brightly as he left the flight deck.

"I'm surprised it still works on him at the rate he drinks it," she muttered to herself. In truth, she was slightly concerned about how much of it he was drinking. How on Earth did he sleep at night after all that caffeine?

"He says it doesn't any more, not as much. That's why he drinks so much of it. Imogen?"

"Yes Arthur?" She dodged around him to put the kettle on and clean the two mugs that Arthur had brought back with him.

"Well, you know how we've been spending loads of time together?"

"That's because we work together, Arthur," she joked, chuckling to herself.

"Oh. Anyway, I was thinking, I quite like you and I was wondering, would you like to go out to dinner sometime?"

Imogen's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise. She had been hoping he would ask her but he hadn't expected him to actually do it.

"It's okay if you don't," he stammered, taking her silence as a rejection.

"No, no, Arthur, I really do! I'm just surprised, that's all. Did Douglas tell you what to say?"

Arthur nodded, his cheeks burning red.

Imogen grinned, pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "That's really sweet of you. Is that why you didn't want me to go into the flight deck? In case he gave it away?"

"Y-yes," he stuttered, still in shock that not only had she said yes, but she had kissed him too!

"I'm really glad you asked," Imogen admitted. "I was thinking of asking you myself but I didn't want to in case you didn't want to."

"I was the same!" Arthur chirped, grinning again.

Imogen beamed and turned away for a second, back to the kettle and the empty mugs, trying to work her features into something a little more nonchalant, thinking up a little trick to play on Douglas.

"Arthur, if it's okay with you, I'd like to play a little trick on Douglas."

"What is it?" He looked confused.

"I want to pretend that I said no to dinner with you for a minute. I definitely want to go with you, I just want to tease Douglas about it."

The confusion on Arthur's face grew. "I don't understand."

"Don't worry, just trust me."

Imogen masked her happiness carefully as she took the hot drinks into the flight deck, placing them down none too gently.

"Everything alright Rebecca?" Douglas had a funny expression on his face, he was obviously trying to conceal something and he wasn't doing a great job of it.

"Douglas, how could you give Arthur the wrong impression about me? He's just gone and completely humiliated himself, poor soul, and all because you told him to."

Douglas frowned, not entirely sure what he was meant to say. "You mean you don't like him that way?"

"Of course I don't! I'm just being friendly, like I am to you two."

"Oh." The First Officer had the grace to look abashed for a moment.

Imogen couldn't hold her composure any longer and laughed, her face splitting into a grin.

"I'm kidding, Douglas. Of course I said yes."

Martin let out a laugh, turning it into a cough when Douglas threw a murderous glare at him. "I'm going to get you back for this, Miss Topaz, just you watch."

"I look forward to it, Mr Richardson. Oh, and Marnie and Molly for Margaret, Nelly for Helen, Kit for Christopher and Chuck for Charles."

Still laughing, she practically skipped out of the flight deck, hearing Martin laugh again.

"What did you do?"

Imogen shrugged nonchalantly. "I just cut our First Officer down to size a little. Come on, let's go play charades, shall we?"

They played for half an hour, not knowing that something was about to go very badly wrong…


	2. Mayday

"We've lost the starboard engine, Captain. Uncontained engine failure. We're losing fuel and hydraulic fluid."

Martin Crieff swore under his breath, hands flying over the dials and buttons, trying to fix it. To do something, anything.

"Douglas, can't you do something?" Martin pleaded at him, eyes large and fearful. The First officer shook his head and Martin's eyes widened. Douglas had always had a master-plan, a stroke of genius tucked up his sleeve.

"There's nothing, Martin. We're going down and there's nothing we can do to stop it."

Think, Martin, think. No, there was nothing for it. They were going to have to land. The nearest airport was thirty miles away in Labruguière, and they wouldn't have the time to get there safely. They were going to have to make an emergency landing.

"Douglas, put out a distress signal please."

"Yes sir." The First Officer struggled to find a frequency, cursing under his breath. "Got it!" He exclaimed after what felt like hours.

"_Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, Castres-Mazamet Centre. Golf Tango India, Lockheed McDonnell 312, uncontrolled engine failure, loss of hydraulic fluid and fuel. I say again Golf Tango India Lockheed McDonnell 312, uncontrolled engine failure, forced landing thirty miles west of Labruguière. 4000 feet descending heading 180."_

"Golf Tango India, roger that. Emergency services to Lamouzie. Good luck."

Flicking off to the radio, the two pilots looked at each other.

"Down to three thousand feet, Captain. She's listing to starboard."

Martin nodded, pressing the intercom as he struggled with the controls.

"Arthur, Imogen, prepare for an emergency landing. You have less than five minutes. It's going to be a bumpy one."

An uncontained engine failure meant a lack of vital equipment, such as landing gears. Add to that that they were running blind, and it was almost certain that the (thus far) contained fire would spread upon landing and engulf GERT-I.

"Carolyn is going to kill us," Martin muttered, trying to distract himself from the fact that if anything they did did not go to plan (as much as an engine failure _could _anyway), they would not survive long enough for Carolyn _to _kill them.

"We're losing rudder control. Losing altitude. Two thousand feet. One thousand five hundred."

Martin took a deep breath, trying to level the plane as much as possible in order to make the landing as safe as it could be.

Imogen knew something was wrong long before Martin made the announcement about the crash.

"Why don't you go sit down, Arthur? We'll be landing soon, and there's only a few small things to do."

Arthur looked up at her, his green eyes a little hurt. Ever since their trip to Florida, he had tried his best to take care of her. Imogen placed a comforting hand on his elbow.

"I'll be quicker. Go on, Arthur. I won't be a minute," she smiled gently, ushering him to his seat before rushing to secure the drinks trolley. Locking the cabinets, Imogen chanced a look at Arthur, who was staring out of the window in horror.

"Imogen?"

"Yes Arthur?" She kept her voice as calm as possible.

He turned to her, green eyes holding a haunted expression.

"We're going to crash, aren't we?"

She thought for an answer, something that wouldn't terrify him, yet tell him of the dangers, when the intercom crackled into life.

"Arthur, Imogen, prepare for an emergency landing. You have less than five minutes. It's going to be a bumpy one."

She sighed. So much for being calm and staying in control. Martin sounded traumatised.

"Yes, Arthur, we are. Come on, brace position. I'm sure we'll be fine."

Hurrying to prepare for landing, the copper haired stewardess slid into the seat next to Arthur, trying to fasten her seatbelt with shaking hands. Arthur reached over to help her with it, and their eyes met. It was then that Imogen's bravado slipped.

"Are we going to die?" She whispered.

"No," he stated firmly. "Skip and Douglas have done this before. We'll be fine."

Arthur seemed fairly confident in the pilots' ability, and it put Imogen at ease a little. Enough to re-erect the barriers around herself, in any case. No, they would be fine, and things would work themselves out. It always did at MJN, somehow. They had more lives than a cat. Hadn't their trip to Florida proved that? Imogen was racked with guilt over the event, but the crew had treated her no differently, besides being somewhat gentler and ensuring she ate regularly. Arthur was his usual chirpy self, and it seemed that that little episode had been placed firmly behind them.

Imogen could see the ground approaching them at a rather alarming rate, flames licking the side of the plane, and motioned for Arthur to assume the CAA approved brace position. After she had done so herself (head on her knees and arms above her head), she reached one hand out for Arthur's, gripping it tightly.


	3. Lamouzie and Butterfly Stitches

Martin and Douglas shut G-ERTI down as quickly as possible, to hopefully contain the fire, lest it take the densely forested area of Lamouzie. In less than a minute, they had disentangled themselves from their seats and fastenings, and pressed their shoulders against the flight deck door, buckled slightly from the landing.

"Come on Martin, put your back in to it!" Douglas yelled, feeling the searing heat of the flames before he could see them. With a none too gentle shove, the door swung open, and Douglas and Martin cast their eyes over the cabin for Imogen and Arthur.

"You've got to help me," Imogen whimpered. "His seatbelt, I don't know what happened. He just flew out of his seat." She peered up at the pilots, a minor cut on her forehead. Her eyes were full of pain and she held her wrist, trying to hold it still to reduce whatever pain she was experiencing.

"Come on Imogen, we need to get out of G-ERTI," Douglas said, as calmly as his frantically beating heart could make his voice. The fact that Douglas had called her by her proper name only added to Imogen's fright. If Douglas was too worried to jest, then they were in even worse danger than she had thought.

"What about Arthur?" She whispered. She had tried and failed to wake the steward and could not conceivably evacuate both herself and Arthur with what was possibly a broken limb.

"Martin has him. Right, Martin?" Douglas wrapped an arm around Imogen's shoulder, lifting her from her seat and towards the exit.

"Right, Douglas. I'm right behind you."

"Come on then Imogen," Douglas muttered, half carrying, half dragging her outside and depositing her gently as far away from G-ERTI as he could manage, before doubling back to help Martin with Arthur.

They laid him on the ground, as Imogen shuffled over on her knees, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Come on Arthur, please wake up." She tapped his shoulder carefully, knowing from her first aid courses that she should be wary of a neck injury.

"Imogen?" Martin put an arm around her and pulled her away. "We need to look at your arm. It might be broken." Imogen laughed at the irony. Arthur had only had his cast removed a week before. She watched Douglas try to wake Arthur, only turning her gaze back to Martin when he caused her significant pain.

"Ow," she muttered, her eyes filling with tears.

"I'm sorry," he returned, taking off his shirt to reveal a crisp white t shirt underneath. Martin fashioned the uniform shirt into a sort of sling, which took some of the pain away and stopped her from trying to use it. Enough to swat him away from peering at her head injury and go back to Arthur, who was starting to come round a little.

"Arthur? Arthur, can you hear me?" Douglas said loudly, tapping Arthur's face, forcing him to wake up.

Imogen took his hand with her uninjured one, squeezing it gently. "Come on Arthur. You have to wake up. You're going to have to be the proper steward from now on. I might have a broken wrist, isn't that funny?" She was babbling now, and she knew it, but it seemed to help a little, for Arthur's eyelids fluttered a little.

"Is he waking up?" She turned to Douglas, eyes hopeful.

"I don't know," Douglas shrugged. "We just have to wait, I'm afraid. They've sent help to us, but I don't know how long it'll take to reach us. I'd imagine it might be a while. They don't know exactly where we are; the radio gave out a few minutes before we could land. How's your wrist?"

She shook her head. "It's fine. It's nothing to worry about." She turned back to Arthur, taking his hand once more. "Come on Arthur. We're going out to dinner, remember? You can't back out now, you promised."

Arthur let out a small groan and opened his eyes blearily. "We're still going, aren't we?"

Imogen laughed with relief, her eyes filling with tears. "Of course we are, as soon as we get you better." She squeezed his hand gently, eternally grateful to whatever powers that be that he wasn't too badly hurt, that none of them were.

"What happened? I can't remember." Arthur sat up slowly.

"That'll be the concussion talking," Douglas began. "We had a sudden engine failure. We're not sure why. We had to land without landing gears and everything failed. Including, it would seem, your seatbelt. You were thrown from your seat. That's how you were knocked unconscious." He explained carefully.

"Is everyone okay?" Arthur looked at Imogen, taking in her handmade sling and the small cut on her forehead.

"We're fine, Arthur," Martin said, sidling over to him. "But Imogen might have broken her wrist. She won't let me look at her head yet though."

Arthur cast Imogen a glance, his way of telling her to stop worrying and get someone to look at it. She scowled but did as she was told, letting Douglas inspect it, wincing and breathing in sharply when he went near it, as it was bruised.

"It's pretty minor. You might need some of those butterfly stitches but that's about it."

"I told you it was nothing," Imogen scowled. "Arthur needs attention more than I do anyway. I wasn't knocked out at all."

"I'm fine Imogen, I promise!"


	4. Paramedics and Buffy The Vampire Slayer

It was a case of waiting for their rescue. Martin suggested that they make their way to the edge of the forest, towards a main road, but Douglas argued that the closer they were to G-ERTI (which, thank the Lord, was no longer engulfed in flames), the better for the rescue, due to the radio signal.

"I agree with Martin," Imogen began, trying to stop the arguing, "But how are we going to get there? We don't know where it is and Arthur and I aren't in a fit state to go wandering in a forest we've never seen before in our lives."

Arthur nodded carefully, before wincing as it hurt his head. Imogen lay a gentle hand on his shoulder to quiet him.

"So I think that given our injuries, we should wait here, like Douglas suggested." There. Now they wouldn't argue, after she had agreed with both of them tactfully. It seemed to work, as both men sighed and flopped down on the ground, without saying anything. Imogen wasn't sure whether she preferred the arguing to the silence.

"Let's carry on the word game, shall we? The nickname one?"

Arthur nodded energetically before exclaiming in pain.

"Arthur, stop moving," she said gently, pulling him towards her so that his head was resting on her shoulder and her arms were around him. "Stay like this." That way, she could stop him from moving, with any luck. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Just relax," she murmured.

"Skip for Martin," Arthur called out.

"Double points for that. Douglas?"

"Buffy and Libby for Elizabeth."

"Good. Double points for the pop culture reference. Martin?"

Martin thought for a minute. "Jimmy and Seamus for James?"

"Not bad Martin. I can't think of any for now."

They continued in this vein for ten minutes, until they heard the distinctive siren that was universal for the emergency services. The tone may have been different, but they would have recognised it anywhere. It was the sound of rescue, of hope and relief. Douglas went in search of them, bringing them back to where they were a few minutes later. The paramedics rushed towards Imogen and Arthur, fussing over them. Imogen demanded that she in no way be parted from Arthur, arguing so much that they had no choice but to ride together. The paramedics weren't very happy about it, but Imogen was adamant.

"You'll be okay, Arthur. They'll take us to hospital, we'll phone your mum and everything will be fine. They'll fix us up and they'll fix G-ERTI and everything will be okay. Then we can go for dinner." She grinned.

"I'd like that a lot," he mumbled.

"Then just stay awake and we'll get it all sorted out. Just stay with me, okay?"


End file.
